


What You Want

by Plisuu



Series: Modest in Temper, Bold in Deed [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Rejection, but only sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-12 19:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19235194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plisuu/pseuds/Plisuu
Summary: "But what do you want?"A short fic about the time that Dorian confessed and our dear inquisitor was a moron about it.





	What You Want

Connor hardly realized they had grown so close. They had kissed once before, maybe twice, but that hadn’t meant anything; that’s what Connor told himself, anyway. It had just been another flurry of emotions that he failed to restrain, nothing more. To find Dorian sauntering into his quarters, propositioning that they become more physical, more intimate, threw Connor into a shock.

“You want to… Slow things down?” Dorian had gone slack jawed at the comment. Connor felt the heat of a furious blush prickle across his cheeks.

“I just think- I mean, I- I think this is all very sudden,” he stammered out as he looked away, trying to hide his face behind his scarf.  

“Oh? What is it you want from me exactly? A relationship?” The mage’s tone was incredulous, and Connor felt his ears begin to burn with embarrassment.

“Is… that what you want?”

Dorian laughed at that, a short bark that seemed almost resentful and sad. Connor frowned. Had he said something wrong? The two of them stood in an awkward, tense silence for what felt like ages. Connor waited for the response tentatively, feeling his mood quickly swinging from embarrassment to anxiety. Dorian watched him wearily, his previous energy snuffed out like a candle.

“All on me then? Fine,” he finally sighed. “I like you. More than I should. More than might be wise.” He looked away, unable to meet Connor’s gaze.

More silence. Connor opened his mouth to reply a few times, each time closing it without a single word. He was overwhelmed, but was that an excuse anymore? He was always overwhelmed. The entire weight of the world was on his shoulders, responsibility for the lives of thousands on his conscious. He already had so many emotions threatening to boil over at any given moment, how could he lead if he couldn’t even keep himself under control? The Inquisition was at stake, he shouldn’t make things more difficult.

“I’m…” He swallowed and took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I’m sorry Dorian, I can’t. The inquisition needs— ”

“Right. Of course,” Dorian cut him off, waving a dismissive hand. “You’re the Herald of Andraste and all, can’t be seen with the Tevinter Magister, my what a scandal that would be.” His tone was sharp. Hurt, Connor realized suddenly.

“Dorian, that’s not what I meant. If you really want this, I can…” He struggled for the right words, desperate to try and fix it. Maker, why couldn’t he figure out the right thing to say?

“There it is again! If _I_ want. I told you what I want, Connor. What do _you_ want?”

The question echoed in Connor’s mind as Dorian watched him, angry and tired and waiting. Connor was stunned into silence by the bitterness and sadness that tinged the words his friend spat at him. It hadn’t been a question - it had been an accusation. 

What did he want? He had never considered it - Connor Trevelyan was never someone with wants, he was someone that was a mouthpiece for others, a man of service. He didn’t ask, he only gave. No one had ever asked him what he wanted. It was always what the Maker wanted, what the Order wanted, what the Circles wanted, what Thedas wanted. Now, it wasn’t about what was wanted from him - it was what was _needed_ — what Thedas needed, what the Inquisition needed. No, Connor Trevelyan hadn’t been an individual person with wants and needs and desires in years. He was the Inquisitor, what he wanted, what he needed didn’t matter anymore, not that it ever had. Everything he did was in service to the Maker, to the Inquisition, and to peace. 

“Dorian, I’m sorry.” he started again, his voice quiet as he turned away, placing a steadying hand on his desk and willing back tears that he couldn’t pinpoint the cause of. 

“No, my apologies, Inquisitor. I shouldn’t have assumed. Shame I didn’t get to see you naked first.” 

With that, Dorian disappeared down the stairs.

Connor let his head fall against a nearby wall with a thud. _Inquisitor._ The title felt like a curse. Of course he had feelings for Dorian  — any fool with eyes could have seen that  — so why did he send him away? Why hadn’t he just admitted it? What could be so wrong with a relationship? Dorian had confessed his feelings for him, in a soul-bearing moment, and Connor hadn’t even considered how much he had put on the line, just how big of a risk this was for him. 

“I want…”

The words were soft and timid. Connor hadn’t heard himself sound so meek and unsure, not since he was a child hiding in his mother’s petticoats. When was the last time he wanted? What did he want now? He wanted the comfort of Dorian’s arms, the scent of his perfumes seeping into their embrace, warming Connor’s lyrium chilled bones. He wanted to press his own calloused hands against the soft skin hidden under crisp, white, linen robes. He wanted their moments of silence among the books, glancing up at each other occasionally to see who would fall asleep first. Connor always loved it when he caught Dorian snoring softly - it was always another opportunity to leave yet another warm scarf behind, another excuse to come back to visit. Dorian was always to first to defend his emotional outbursts that had been impossible to withhold after arriving to skyhold, the first to stand between him and any watching bystanders, protecting him from their judgmental gazes. Always there to remind him that mistakes are normal, that perfection is an unattainable goal, that he was just as human as the rest of them. He wanted the sarcasm, the laughter, the banter, the soft reassurances that _yes, it’s okay to be a mage, yes, you are allowed to have feelings, yes, you are human,_ and _yes, you can be loved._

Connor gripped the banister of the stairs, taking slow, tentative steps first. As he turned the corner into the library rotunda, he broke into a run. He grabbed the man in front of him, grasping him in a huge, haphazard embrace, burying his face into the smaller man’s tanned shoulder, breathless and riddled with anxiety and excitement and overwhelming affection and desire to never let go.

“I want you, Dorian.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure where in the timeline this takes place yet hahaha  
> I just wanted to write how they finally stated dating.


End file.
